moaning, when suddenly, it seemed from nowhere, a small piece of paper
fluttered from out the assembly and alighted on the desk in front of the
Public Prosecutor. He took the paper up and glanced at its contents. I
saw that his cheeks had paled, and that his hand trembled as he handed
the paper over to me."

"And what did that paper contain, citizen Marat?" asked Bibot, also
speaking in a whisper, for an access of superstitious terror was
gripping him by the throat.

"Just the well-known accursed device, citizen, the small scarlet flower,
drawn in red ink, and the few words: 'To-night the innocent men and
women now condemned by this infamous tribunal will be beyond your
reach!'"

"And no sign of a messenger?"

"None."

"And when did----"

"Hush!" said Marat peremptorily, "no more of that now. To your post,
citizen, and remember--all are suspect! let none escape!"

The two men had been sitting outside a small tavern, opposite the Porte
Montmartre, with a bottle of wine between them, their elbows resting on
the grimy top of a rough wooden table. They had talked in whispers, for
even the walls of the tumble-down cabaret might have had ears.

Opposite them the city wall--broken here by the great gate of